ne has got to, my dear gossip Derues."

"Derues!" cried twenty voices all at once.

"What! Derues who is in Prison?"

"Why, that's Monsieur de Lamotte's man."

"The man who killed Madame de Lamotte?"

"The man who made away with her son?"

"A scoundrel, my dears, who accused me of stealing, an absolute monster!"

"It is just a little unfortunate," said widow Masson, "that it isn't the
man. My tenant calls himself Ducoudray. There's his name on the
register."

"Confound it, that doesn't look like it at all," said the hawker: "now
that's a bore! Oh yes, I have a grudge against that thief, who accused
me of stealing. I told him I should sell his history some day. When
that happens, I'll treat you all round."

As a foretaste of the fulfilment of this promise, the company disposed of
a second bottle of liqueur, and, becoming excited, they chattered at
random for some time, but at length slowly dispersed, and the street
relapsed into the silence of night. But, a few hours later, the
inhabitants were surprised to see the two ends occupied by unknown
people, while other sinister-looking persons patrolled it all night, as
if keeping guard. The next morning a carriage escorted by police stopped
at the widow Masson's door. An officer of police got out and entered a
neighbouring house, whence he emerged a quarter of an hour later with
Monsieur de Lamotte leaning on his arm. The officer demanded the key of
the cellar which last December had been hired from the widow Masson by a
person named Ducoudray, and went down to it with Monsieur de Lamotte and
one of his subordinates.

The carriage standing at the door, the presence of the commissioner
Mutel, the chatter of the previous evening, had naturally roused
everybody's imagination. But this excitement had to be kept for home
use: the whole street was under arrest, and its inhabitants were
forbidden to leave their houses. The windows, crammed with anxious
faces, questioning each other, in the expectation of something wonderful,
were a curious sight; and the ignorance in which they remained, these
mysterious preparations, these orders silently executed, doubled the
curiosity, and added a sort of terror: no one could see the persons who
had accompanied the police officer; three men remained in the carriage,
one guarded by the two others. When the heavy coach turned into the rue
de la Mortellerie, this man had bent towards the closed window and
asked--

"Where a